Remembering the Feeling of Love
by The Honor Lord
Summary: Ah yes. Love. She remembered what that felt like, but who needed love when all that mattered was the top of the ladder? And now, there was only one person left who could oppose her. Of everyone, it had to be him. The one she had claimed to love, once upon an easier time. She remembered how it felt. Of course, that was only because he was the same.


Yup. This fic came out of nowhere. I was in the car and plot bunnies came and attacked my brain, earlier today. So I wrote it out... Um... I haven't really edited much, so I apologize for any mistakes that are in the stories (point them out in a review, if you'd like).

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Ah yes.

Love.

She remembered what that felt like, but who needed love when all that mattered was the top of the ladder? She had gone through hell, working until she had died several times to climb to where she was. And now, there was only one person left who could oppose her.

Of everyone, it had to be him. The one she had claimed to love, once upon an easier time. She remembered how it felt, being with someone who finally understood her ambitions, who finally understood her temper.

Of course, that was only because he was the same.

It could have never worked out. They were too competitive for each other; working in the same company and knowing that only one of them would come out on top. No, it would have never worked out, even if they had never argued once. But they did. Huge, heated arguments which would reduce both of them to tears and either one of them marching out the door. One day it had been too much. She couldn't remember where they were and who had walked out. All she remembered is that they didn't come back and the other didn't look for them. And both had started doing their work with a newfound vigor.

She hated him now. She told herself that she never really loved him; she was merely drawn in because of how similar they were. She told herself that they were never meant to be.

And yet, every time they presented their own findings to the Director, why did her heart start beating quickly again? Why did she long to run her fingers through his long, wavy auburn hair just once more and why did she longed to see his goofy smile first thing in the morning another time?

She pushed these meaningless longings down and transformed it into ambition to be better than him. She would reach there and laugh at his pitiful inferiority.

Maybe if she was honest with herself, she wanted to prove to him how independent she was and how she never needed him in the first place.

And then, one day, that girl appeared. That girl began meddling in their work, ruining carefully planned out scenarios. And one day, that girl changed his mind and he left. Gone, turned his back on the company.

And she was alone now. Who was she even competing against? Without him, what was her goal?

She would show him just how much he had missed, walking out on the company. On _her_. How _dare_ he leave her? _Twice_. No, she would show him, and make him regret it.

But every so often, she would see his figure in the streets and she'd discreetly keep her eyes trained on him. She watched to see any sign of sorrow and sadness, but all she saw was a newfound spring in his step. But when she thought of it, it wasn't that newfound; she remembered it from the days when they would walk down the same streets, laughing together, temporarily forgetting all their problems.

She missed those days.

She almost wished she could leave and join him. But she had gone through too much hell to stop. She had to go on.

Then, that girl came, just as she came to him. And the girl changed everything. She remembered what love was, what friendship was. And, like him, she walked out.

And she started again from scratch. Only this time, she made herself remember what was really important. But something was still missing, and she knew what it was.

She wanted him back, she _needed_ him back. He was her equal, he was a part of her, he _was_ her. She found him.

But she didn't beg. Because she didn't beg. She forced him to help her, knowing, or perhaps merely hoping, that he'd want the same thing. No. She knew. She knew him too well, every curve of his body, every thought of his brain, every beat of his heart, she knew it too well.

She loved him. But her pride wouldn't let her give in first.

So when he showed up with flowers, she couldn't hold it in. After the kids were gone, and barely after, she ran up to him, hugged him with as much vigour as she could. He threw the flowers on the nearby desk, hugging back with the same enthusiasm. He took her face in his rough hands, gently caressing it before bringing it to his own and capturing her lips.

She had dreamed of this for ages, needing it again, but she had forgotten the feeling and being in his arms again. She had forgotten and now she needed it to last as long as it could. Her hands tangled in his hair once more, breathing in his oh-so-familiar scent. She needed it to last forever.

But he broke away anyway, both of them panting from the lack of oxygen. Somehow he managed to breathe into her forehead, "Yours or mine tonight?"

"Yours." After all, the girl under her charge had spare keys to her house.

When they finally reached his house, no words were exchanged. Nothing needed to be said except each other's name, muttered between moans and screams.

And in the morning, she woke up and there it was. She was in his arms, the goofy smile the first thing she saw.

She remembered now. This was how love felt.


End file.
